


Ours

by Kierkegarden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU where Albus voices his concerns and Gellert accommodates them, M/M, Morality, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/pseuds/Kierkegarden
Summary: A conversation about the ethical mitosis of Wizard and Muggle societies.For my Valentine's Day 2018 Ficlet Challenge.





	Ours

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Kulapti, over on Tumblr: ‘Nerdy intellectual Grindeldore fluff please, perhaps in a vaguely canon-divergent redemption arc sort of setting?’

“Describe how it is just to send anyone to death without trial.”

A floating candle casts light like liquid gold over Albus’s auburn hair, still shower-damp and plaited down his back as he pours over The History of English Common Law. Gellert wishes he would leave the muggle history behind and hold his hand, moving forward into a new horizon. He tries an approach he knows will soften the man beside him - the second-to-last resort, answers the question with a question.

“Do you pay attention to the muggle sciences?”

“That is the single most surprising thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth tonight,” Albus looks stricken, “And that’s after you said that you would haul all suspects of anti-wizard propaganda to the gallows.”

Gellert frowns, preferring to leave the previous conversation closed. “Well, do you?”

Albus’s long fingers are still absent-mindedly flicking through pages, though his eyes are centered on Gellert, twinkling through their spectacles.

“Of course I do. It’s a very interesting take on magic that muggles have - somewhat of a hybrid between arithmancy and alchemy.”

“Some, I admit, have come close to the wizarding understanding of the art.” Gellert looks up with distaste, “Several years ago, I attended a muggle lecture at the University of Kiel where a professor was discussing something he called “mitosis” - the splitting of cells.”

“Why, in the name of Merlin, were you attending a muggle lecture?” Albus laughs, no doubt picturing a Gellert budding on the brink of adolescence, pushing himself up on his toes to see over head of some blank-eyed muggle university student, scowling at every face who dared to look at him wrong.

“It is important to know understand what we’re up against. My conclusion, at the time, was that it’s nothing that we can’t handle.”

“Certainly not when we’re throwing them towards the gallows at every accidental misstep.” There is a sharpness to Albus’s voice that makes Gellert shiver, and it seems to echo in like canyon-like gap between them.

“Would you forget that I said that?” Gellert sighs, “My point, if you would let me finish, my dear - mitosis. The splitting of cells. Two daughter cells, identical to the parent, but separated. Now operating in different spheres.”

“That metaphor is certainly thick,” Albus muses, transfixed by the candle that floats above Gellert’s head, sainting him in a halo-like circle of light, “Almost pretty enough to make me forget how keen you are on harming innocents.”

If it weren’t for his smile and light-hearted tone, Gellert would have simply walked out without another word.

“They will not be harmed, if they do not attack first. Have we not the right to our own sphere? Is that not a compromise for people like me, like your sister?”

Albus leans back, reconciling it. “Mitosis implies that the daughter cells are identical to each other.”

Gellert’s friend is stubborn and careful and unbelievably brilliant - perhaps as brilliant as he is. The thought is as dangerous as it is exciting and more presently than ever, Gellert realizes that they must bridge this gap through whatever means necessary. Together, Gellert thinks, they could take on the world. Knowing that his equal exists within Albus means that their separation would be their undoing.

“Our sphere is superior, Gellert,” Albus says, more seriously, after a long silence, “we both know that.”

And there are three ways that this could end: the way it has been, the way Gellert wants it to be, or some kind of compromise.

“The superior sphere has long taken the responsibility to cater to the lesser,” Gellert explains, “what we’re made of does not pertain to this metaphor. It is how we interact with them.”

And Albus can at least see that - having his family ripped apart by the effects of this collision. That even if they don’t deserve a universal punishment, they don’t deserve this great sacrifice either; that there has to be a better way. In that way he and Gellert are the same, holding the world as their grand experiment, because they both know that it could be better, that it needs to be better, and that they are the ones who must make it better. It soothes him.

“So we can agree on a clause on non-interference?” Gellert seals the deal with touch, electric and gentle fingertips sealing in a bond around Albus’s. Pushing their hands down as leverage, Gellert draws himself closer over the low walnut table, tilting his head so their foreheads and noses touch. Albus smiles, signing his will in everlasting ink.

“With the effect you have on me, I might have agreed to the gallows, had you caught me off guard.”

But Gellert doesn’t want off guard. Gellert wants eternal, he wants to bear this weight, to carve this new empire as equals. Delicately unwinding their interlocking fingers, he moves one hand below Albus’s chin and one to steady himself.

“We can settle the difference.” Gellert finally whispers, “This is ours.”


End file.
